Just Hold Me
by Bekatrina
Summary: The three times (that Merlin can remember) that Arthur actually hugged him. Canon divergence at the end
1. Chapter 1

Merlin did not like dogs. At all. He didn't care what size they were, he didn't care if they were on the other side of the street fast asleep, and he definitely didn't care if they were wagging their tails, were obviously friendly and only wanted to play.

In his defense, he'd been mauled by a dog when he was nine, giving him horrendous scars on his right leg, and chased up a tree by that same dog when he was twelve, leaving him with a bite mark on the other leg.

So no, Merlin was not very fond of dogs. He stayed out of their way when they were hunting, bribed other servants to walk them and was eternally grateful that some kitchen boys actually _liked_ the dogs and would take any excuse to go down to the kennels, so feeding them wasn't an issue. Unfortunately, Merlin did have to walk by the kennels on the way to the stables, something he did as fast as he possibly could without running, not being able to stand the barking and the scratching and the howling the damn mutts started as soon as anyone passed them. It was torturous.

So there he was, on his way to meet Lancelot in the stables, which the knight-in-training was currently mucking out. He was really enjoying having Lancelot here. He was eight years older than the sixteen-year-old Merlin and it was like having an (doting) older brother around, though when he'd voiced that to Arthur, the Prince had gotten rather sullen and ordered Merlin to go clean his chainmail. Merlin really hoped that Arthur would knight Lancelot soon. He couldn't think of anyone more deserving.

Although, the two knights who came up behind Merlin, unlocked the door to the kennels, and roughly pushed him inside, were perhaps not so deserving.

Merlin started pleading. Begging for them to open the door as the dogs bounded up to him, barking, and jumping, all six of them, causing Merlin to fall to the ground, shouting for help as the dogs pawed at him and started playfighting with him, while the two who pushed him inside just laughed. Even if Merlin had been alone to cast a spell to unlock the door, he wasn't sure he could remember any.

Merlin continued crying out for help, beginning to genuinely cry, until finally, finally, someone unlocked the door, barking at the dogs to get back. Someone grabbed Merlin under the arms and hoisted him up, dragging him out of the kennels at the same time. As soon as Merlin realised that Arthur was his savior, he launched himself at Arthur, wrapping his arms around his neck, and burying his face in Arthur's shoulder. Arthur was startled, but quickly regained composure, rubbing Merlin's back with one hand, and cradling the back of his head with the other. Lancelot, who'd heard the commotion from the stables, had locked the door as soon as Merlin was clear. Leon had come running with Arthur, and was currently glaring at the two responsible.

The hug was too brief for Merlin. His breathing hadn't even returned to something resembling normal and was still coming in great shuddering gasps as Arthur gently pried Merlin off of him and passed him over to Lancelot, with instructions to take him to Gaius for something to calm his nerves. He heard Arthur turn on the two who'd locked Merlin in and ignored his pleas to be let out as Lancelot led him away with an arm around shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

Grief will not be ignored.

It takes a hold of you and will not let you go no matter how hard you try, feeding off you, incapacitating you, consuming you. Granted, it is not so very selfish that it does not give you some respite, and it does. It recedes for a while, before crashing over you again and dragging you down to its depths. It will eventually fade, but there is nothing to be done until then. It must be endured.

Merlin had thought he had endured it. Seeing Lancelot walk into the veil in his place had nearly destroyed him but, like so many other things, he had endured. After a few months, the waves stopped crashing over him and he found he could breathe easier. He could remember Lancelot, recall their inside jokes and games without getting that ache in his chest. Grief let him go.

Until the shade, that is.

Until that thing wearing Lancelot's face. At the time, Merlin had been too preoccupied with trying to prevent it from hurting Arthur, and then wondering what it could possibly be after, once he realised taking Arthur's life was not its goal.

But seeing Lancelot's lifeless body in that boat… giving him the proper burial he'd been denied the first time around… a new wave crashed over Merlin. On the walk back to Camelot, he'd completely broken down, falling to his knees and screamed, letting his grief shake the surrounding trees. He eventually managed to stumble back to Camelot and up to Arthur's chambers.

He informed the King, who was standing with his back to Merlin, examining some documents, that he'd completed his task without any difficulties. Lancelot had been laid to rest. Arthur barely acknowledged Merlin, too absorbed in his own misery. He denied wanting anything else when Merlin asked and it took him a moment to realise that Merlin was still lingering. Arthur turned around as Merlin asked again, was he sure there wasn't anything else he could do for him.

Merlin turned his gaze away from Arthur, looking anywhere else, hands clasped behind his back, taking deep steadying breaths, trying to get himself under control. Arthur walked slowly over to Merlin and didn't say anything as he wrapped his arms around him. Merlin returned the embrace, burying his face in Arthur's shoulder, despite the fact that he was taller.

Arthur rubbed Merlin's back with one hand, cradled his head with the other, waiting for Merlin to compose himself.

Arthur didn't mind that it took a while.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin knew he wasn't a monster.

He knew now, at least. He did, he was sure of it, positive, it was just… he wasn't so sure everyone else would see it that way. He'd always wanted Arthur to see him for who he truly was, to know what he did for him, how much Arthur meant to him… but he had never been certain that Arthur cared for him as much as Merlin cared for Arthur. He wasn't even certain that he deserved such devotion.

As a child, Merlin's growing powers had been a cause for concern. Just as soon as he'd gotten a handle on his own strength, when he was sure he could control himself, his powers would grow and he'd have to start all over again. It had been out of sheer desperation that Hunith had sent her son to Camelot – where magic went to die. Gaius was the only one who could possibly help him, there had been nothing else for it.

As a teenager, Merlin's mastery of new and more difficult spells had been a source of pride. With Gaius's help, he'd taught himself a new language, mastered potion making, understood the intricacies of spell casting. He could even explain the difference between an enchantment, a spell and a curse, the difference between elemental magic and elemental spells. He reached the stage where he could create his own.

As an adult that pride once again turned to fear. Fear of the incredible feats things he could do. Fear that it might go to his head. Fear that it might cause him to lose his empathy and not care about who he was harming or why, that maybe he wouldn't care and would just want them out of his way. Fear that he had already changed that way. That he really was a monster.

There was always that nagging little voice inside his head, the one that told him his friends would never accept him as he was. That they weren't truly his friends, and that he didn't deserve them anyway, so what did it matter? They would reject him as soon as they knew the truth.

Arthur would reject him as soon as he knew the truth.

And reject him, Arthur did. Though he didn't condemn Merlin to death, or banish him, or throw him in the dungeons, the look of utter betrayal on Arthur's face as Merlin confessed to being a sorcerer broke Merlin's heart. He felt as though an immense weight had been dropped into his stomach as Arthur calmly, but coldly, told Merlin to leave his chambers. He forbade Merlin to tell anyone else about it, as though it was something to be ashamed, something dirty that could not be spoken about to others. He told Merlin not to come in the morning, he would send for him later.

He didn't send for Merlin at all the next day. Or the day after. Merlin stayed in his room, afraid he'd miss the messenger Arthur would send to summon him. Gwaine came to pester his about what was wrong, but Arthur's warning to keep his mouth shut was ringing in his ears, so he made up an excuse about a sick stomach. Gwaine left unconvinced.

Finally, _finally_ Arthur sent for him. Merlin practically flew through the castle, his heart pounding the entire time. He hesitated briefly before knocking on Arthur's door. He fully expected Arthur to tell him to leave Camelot. That he could not forgive Merlin being a sorcerer, and he most definitely could not forgive Merlin hiding that fact from him for _ten years_.

Instead Arthur apologised. He knew Merlin was loyal to him, to Camelot. He knew he would never have built this kingdom if it wasn't for Merlin. He said thank you. He told Merlin he'd been thinking, talking to Guinevere, without giving anything away of course, and came to realise how hard this must have been for him. He was sorry that he'd made Merlin believe he wouldn't care for him if he knew the truth. He was sorry for sending him away these past few days, he just needed time to think.

He told Merlin that he didn't want to change. That he always wanted Merlin to be himself.

Merlin burst into tears.

It was everything he'd ever wanted to hear and more. He tried to compose himself but it was no use. Twenty six years of terror and pain and self-doubt, every fear he'd ever had about himself, all the guilt he'd carried from the times he'd failed, came pouring out.

Arthur pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Merlin, rubbing his back with one hand and cradling the back of his head with the other as Merlin sobbed onto his shoulder.

They stood like that for a very, very long time.

But that was okay, Arthur decided. He'd tease his friend for being such a girl later.


	4. Bonus

"Sir Waggles."

"Oh for God's sake."

"You said – "

"I know what I said!"

Arthur sighed. After the kennel incident last week, he'd finally decided that something needed to be done about Merlin's aversion to dogs. He'd known that Merlin convinced other servants to complete his chores when it came to the dogs, but after Merlin nearly had a meltdown the first time Arthur had sent a dog running by him while hunting, he'd decided it was perhaps best to let him off with it. But now Arthur decided he couldn't leave Merlin with such an obvious vulnerability, especially when some had already made it clear they were happy to exploit it.

So here they were, in the kennel they kept for whelping bitches, Merlin, Morgana and Lancelot kneeling next a litter of three-week-old puppies. Arthur was crouching down and Gwen standing in the doorway, watching them. This had been Morgana's idea, starting Merlin off with puppies, before moving onto larger animals. Arthur had a hold of the mother dog, who didn't seem to mind them handling her litter. This was her third one after all, so she was used to humans around her puppies, but Merlin seemed wary of her, so Arthur thought it best to keep a hold. It was completely unnecessary and Arthur knew it. She wasn't even straining against him.

Merlin hadn't been thrilled when he'd realised they were going to the kennels. But his face had lit up when Arthur told him he was going to let him name the new puppies. He didn't want to go near the dogs, but apparently, he had no problem with giving them ridiculous names.

"He's very creative, you have to admit Sire," Lancelot said, grinning, a puppy in his lap, licking his hand. The puppy in Morgana's arms was fast asleep. So far, in addition to Sir Waggles, they had Beelzepug ("He's not a pug!"), Prince of Barkness ("I'm noticing a theme, Merlin"), Baron von Floof-Tail ("Because what bitch doesn't a dog with land?") and finally –

"Bob," Merlin declared, cradling the last puppy against his chest.

"Bob?!"

"What can you possibly have against Bob?" Merlin asked, the others stifling laughter. "It's the most normal name out of all of them!"

"It doesn't exactly go with any of the rest of them though, does it?"

Merlin held up the puppy to look him in eyes. He didn't seem to mind when the puppy started licking his face, which is stark improvement to him gingerly taking the first puppy (Beelzepug) from Morgana. "He looks like a Bob."

"You said he could name them," Morgana reminded him.

"First and last time I ever do that," Arthur retorted.

Merlin cuddled Bob, burying his face into his soft fur. To think, an hour ago it had taken Lancelot putting an arm around Merlin's shoulders and pinning him to his side to get him in the kennel. "You know their last name is Pendragon, right?"

"Oh for God's sake."

"You said – "

"I know what I said!"


End file.
